


Caged Heat

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas is so done with Crowley's shit, Episode Re-Write, Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat, M/M, Samuel is a douche, hurt!meg, jealous!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas team up with Meg to kill Crowley, but they get WAY more than they bargained for. Especially Dean, but how was he supposed to know one little kiss would make him feel this way?





	Caged Heat

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, this is the first time I have ever done an episode re-write, and I have to say, it was way harder in some ways than I thought it would be. Mad props to all the writers out there who do entire series rewrites. Anyway, this is my submission for Week 4 of Destiel Bingo, and my prompt was N5: “I learned that from the pizza man.” I really hope you guys like it.
> 
> Massive thanks to Cutelittlekitty for peeping this to make sure it didn’t suck before publishing! Love you, boo!

[Originally posted by hideyoursparks](https://tmblr.co/ZMrlui2BoBtaS)

Dean looked around at the concrete walls of the cell Crowley had tossed him in. It was dismal, and he knew Sam was about as well off in the cell next to his.

“Sam?” Dean called when he spotted a vent on the wall they shared.

“Yeah?”

“I’m standing in pee.” It certainly wasn’t Dean’s biggest problem, but it was the most immediate. He really didn’t want to talk about his problem with Samuel selling them out, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about the kiss.

“Consider yourself lucky.” The disgust in Sam’s voice was so clear, Dean could almost see the expression on his face.

“Yikes. That sucks.”

Dean paced in the cell, looking for anything that might give him a way out, and trying to distract himself from the image that ran through his mind on repeat. It didn’t work. There were more important things to think about, like how the hell they were gonna get out of these cells, but Dean couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. All he could concentrate on was the pervasive jealously he’d been feeling since Meg had reached into Castiel’s coat in that God forsaken hallway.

When Dean saw Castiel spin her around and push her into the wall, he’d been shocked. Now the image twisted his insides with envy. It was… unexpected. He’d been shoving down his feelings for Cas for so long, but right now they were raging full force.

He was jealous of Meg. It pervaded his thoughts. He lost track of time. Sam wasn’t talking at all, so he provided no distraction. And so, Dean sat in the cleanest corner of the dirty cell, replaying the scene over and over in his mind.

“I learned that from the pizza man” Cas had said after breaking the kiss. Meg had looked so breathless. It should have been Dean with Castiel’s body pressed against him. His hair Cas threaded fingers into roughly. His breath Cas stole with a ravishing kiss.

His darkening thoughts were interrupted by a clang, the opening of the window on the door. Dean stood and moved closer so he could see the face on the other side. Samuel. Revulsion twisted his face into a dark sneer.

“You want forgiveness, find a priest.”

Samuel sighed and looked down at the floor before turning back to Dean. “I just want you to understand—”

“Oh, I understand that you’re a liar.” Dean stepped toward the door aggressively. He was so done with Samuel’s bullshit. “You talk about putting blood first, which is funny, cuz you sound just like my dad. Difference is, he actually did.”

Samuel’s face hardened at the mention of John Winchester. “I am putting blood first.”

“Oh, gimme a break!”

“Mary’s my blood, my daughter! Don’t come at me like I sold you out.” Samuel all but spat the words, and Dean’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You sold out your own mother. It was her or Sam, and you chose Sam. Plain and simple.”

If the door hadn’t been solid iron, Dean would have found a way to get through and lay Samuel out flat. Not for the first time, he cursed Michael for making everyone forget his travel to the past. He hadn’t sold out his mother, he’d tried his damnedest to warn her, make sure everyone survived.

“Oh, that is such crap! You wanna know what really happened?” Dean pointed through the window at his grandfather. “You chose a demon over your own grandsons.”

“See it how you want. I don’t even know what Sam is, and you want me to protect him? And you? You’re a stranger.” As Samuel spoke, Dean tried to swallow his anger and disgust with the man, looking away from him and laughing mirthlessly at his words. “No, really. Tell me. What exactly are you supposed to be to me?”

“I’ll tell you who I am,” Dean said quietly, his green eyes full of dark intent as he held Samuel’s gaze. His quiet voice was no longer full of wrath, but steadfast conviction. “I’m the guy you never wanna see again. Cuz I’ll make it out of here, trust me.” He paused, soaking in the fear his grandfather tried and failed to hide. “The next time you see me, I’ll be there to kill you.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be a next time.”  
  
“Whatever gets you through the night.”

Dean detected an unexpected note of sadness, even remorse in Samuel’s expression before the old man slammed the window shut. Dean was angry at his grandfather. Angry for the way he sold them out, got them locked up in this prison. Mostly, he was angry at Samuel for banishing Castiel. It was his grandfather’s fault that he hadn’t even had the chance to say anything to the angel. Now, he might actually die and never get the chance. All because making bad deals ran in the family.

The hinges of the iron door creaked loudly behind Dean, and he turned to see two demons in black suits coming into the cell. They didn’t speak, just grabbed him roughly by both arms and dragged him out into the hallway. Dean looked over his shoulder to see Samuel was leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets and refusing to make eye contact with anything other than the floor. Maybe he felt guilty about what he had done. Didn’t matter now. If Dean made it out of this hellhole, he was definitely going to hunt Samuel down and kill him.

Dean’s silent demon captors dragged him down the hallway and tossed him into another, much larger room. He looked around, adjusting his jacket as the shut the door behind him. It looked like a bathroom. In the center there was a large, tiled sink. It was covered in blood, and Dean was pretty sure that was an intestine hanging out one side. He grimaced, moving past the sink to the far side of the room. There was a shower curtain hanging in front of one of the stalls that looked like it used to be clear but was now covered in blood.

His heart thudded in his chest as he reached to pull it back, half expecting some monster to jump out at him. None did. He pulled back the curtain and revealed a corpse that didn’t look very old. It looked like all the soft bits had been eaten. Well, at least Dean knew what this room was now.

He waited for something to happen for what felt like forever. He thought of Cas again, the kiss he’d shared with Meg. He was less angry about it now that he knew he probably wasn’t going to make it out of this prison alive. He really couldn’t blame Cas for what happened. It’s not like Dean had ever made an effort to tell the angel how he felt. How could he have known? Dean hadn’t realized he was pacing again. What if he never got to kiss Cas? What if Dean never got to even tell him that was something he wanted? Dean kicked himself mentally for not having the balls to do something about it sooner.

Dean was pulled from his reverie by the cold, metallic sound of the doors swinging open again. The demons that had brought him to this room were back with two blood covered men in tow. Not human men, Dean gathered from the state of the room, and their faces.

“Enjoy,” snarked one of the demons as they shut the doors again.

“Alright, alright,” Dean started, covering his fear with sarcasm as always, “Shawshank was a great flick, but let’s skip the shower scene, huh?”

The two ghouls looked at each other and smirked. “Look. Breakfast.”

Dean fought hard against them; dodging blows, planting an elbow or a knee into flesh when he could, but the ghouls were much stronger than him. He couldn’t see anything in the bathroom he could use as a weapon, as least nothing within reach.

“Fuckin’ hate ghouls,” he groaned as he tried to push one of them off him. The next thing he felt was his back slamming against the sink in the middle of the bathroom. He was sure that was it, the ghoul was easily overpowering him now, but he was finally able to free one hand and land a mean right hook against the ghoul’s cheek, knocking it to the floor. Dean didn’t even have time to catch his breath before the other ghoul was tackling him to the ground, pinning him so he couldn’t fight back.

Dean was going to die. He knew it. He was doing his best to delay the inevitable, barely holding off each ghoul with one arm. Suddenly, he heard something metallic breaking, a muted crack, and a ghoul flew off of him, the side of it’s head crushed inward by the pipe Sam wielded. The other ghoul stood, it’s attention on Sam as he swung the pipe again. Blood spattered as the it struck the side of the ghoul’s skull, cracking it open. It fell to the floor and Sam moved quickly to end it, driving the end of the metal pipe through its skull with a sickening squelch.

“You alright, dude,” Sam asked as he reached down to help Dean up off the floor. Dean took his brother’s outstretched hand and used the leverage to lift himself.

“Yeah, let’s go find Crowley and kill that son of a bitch.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just headed out the door and assumed Sam would follow. They made their way down the long hallways of the prison, past cells containing Crowley’s captives, huddled into the far corners, away from the light. It was more of what he had seen on the way in.

Dean heard a pained, high pitched scream and he looked over at Sam. He was pretty sure it was Meg. Dean took off running without waiting to see if Sam was keeping up. Meg had Cas’s angel blade, and they needed at least one weapon. He followed her voice to an open door and he snuck in silently.

It appeared that Samuel wasn’t the only Campbell in the prison, as Christian was bent over Meg, slicing into her with the demon knife. She cried out in pain with every cut. Strapped down to that table, she looked so small and terrified that Dean could almost forget she was a demon. And that she’d kissed his angel. Almost.

Dean caught her eye, and she blinked and starting laughing raucously. Christian stood, towering over the table, looking down at her.

“What are you laughing at?” He was holding the knife up as he spoke, and Dean snatched it from his hand and stabbed him with it.

“Dean Winchester’s behind you, meat sack.” Meg laughed again from her place on the table.

Dean pulled the demon blade out of Christian’s back, letting his body fall to the floor. He heard footfalls behind him as Sam caught up and he looked back at his brother.

“We should go,” Sam said. He didn’t even glance in Meg’s direction.

Dean tucked the demon blade into his belt, as safely as he could and he looked down at the demon Castiel had kissed. He could leave her there, and he seriously considered it. She had held off the hellhounds for them, though. Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at her for kissing Cas, not the way she looked right now. Scared, desperate, it was clear she just wanted to escape from Crowley. He reached down and started loosening the leather restraints that held her to the table. Meg smiled up at him, surprise and gratitude mixing on her face.

Dean had decided not to be angry about the kiss anymore. He would just have to tell Cas how he felt when all this was over. Maybe not completely over. If he waited too long, until the adrenaline wore off, he would lose his nerve. He would figure that out later, right now they needed a plan.

“We need to find somewhere to ambush Crowley.” Dean looked over at Sam. Meg was dressing, and even though they had already seen her completely naked on the table, they turned their backs to her, giving her privacy to do so.

“Why don’t we just do it here?” Sam asked, looking around. “Look, there’s a fire alarm. We pull the alarm, it will draw him in.” Dean agreed, and they quickly hatched a plan. “Gimme the demon blade.” Dean handed it over and Sam used to reopen what looked like a bite wound on his forearm. “Don’t ask,” Sam replied to Dean’s questioning look.

Dean filled Meg in on the plan while Sam used the blood dripping from his arm to draw a Devil’s Trap on the ceiling. When he finished he took his place at the fire alarm. Meg hid behind a post, and Dean stood in a corner by the door.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Sam pulled the alarm. The time passed slowly as they waited for Crowley to come through that door. Dean supposed it made sense that it might take a while for him to arrive, given they didn’t know where in the prison he was or if there was any way for him to know which room the alarm was for.

When Crowley finally stumbled into the room, Dean waited, watching as the King of Hell took in the empty table, the body of his demon employee crumpled on the floor. Sam pushed down the lever on the fire alarm and silence enveloped the room. Crowley turned, looking at Dean with something between surprise and dismay.

“You should be ghoul scat by now.” Sam swung the wrench, a metallic ring and a dull thud ringing through the air when it connected with the back of Crowley’s skull, knocking him to the floor. He crawled a few feet and then turned to get on his feet. “Is that really necessary? I just had this dry-cleaned.” He dusted himself off and faced Dean, who was pulling the demon knife from his jacket.

Dean smiled as Crowley tried to take a step forward and was bounced back. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed as he saw the trap Sam had left for him.

“So, to what do I owe the reach-around?” he asked, a falsely pleasant smile on his face. The smile faded, twisting into a sneer of disgust when Meg came out from her hiding place.

“Crowley.” Meg stopped, taking her place between the Winchesters.

“Whore.” Crowley was snarky, even while they had him dead to rights.

“Okay, ya know what?” Meg lifted a hand, curling her fingers into a loose fist. Crowley doubled over, groaning in pain as blood dripped from his lips. “The best torturers never get their hands dirty. Sam wants a word with you.”

“What can I do for you, Sam?” Crowley slowly stood upright again, Meg releasing her grip on him.

“You know damn well.” Sam stepped forward as he spoke. “I want my soul back.”

“And here I thought you just grew some balls, Sam,” Meg said, looking at Sam with a wry grin on her face. Dean laughed internally as Sam rolled his eyes at her comment before turning his attention back to Crowley.

“Well?”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he watched Crowley with disdain, waiting for the man to answer. It would have been so much easier if Cas were there. The angel was mostly adorably awkward, but he could be scary as hell when he wanted to be.

“No.” Crowley smiled tightly.

“Meg?” Dean watched her as she stepped closer to Crowley, tightening her invisible grip on his insides and dropping him to his knees as he groaned in pain again. Dean was really starting to enjoy that sound, not to mention the sight of Crowley’s blood dripping onto the floor.

“I can’t,” Crowley answered when he could breathe again.

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam asked.

“I said can’t, and I meant can’t, you mop-headed lumberjack.” He rose to his knees, still catching his breath. “I was lucky to get this much of you out. Going back in there for the sloppy bits? No way. I’m good, but those two in there? Forget it.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t! But it doesn’t change anything, I’m tellin’ you.” Crowley cocked his head to one side, his confusion appearing genuine. “Sam, why do you want the thing back?” He paused, clearly waiting for an answer. When he received none, he continued, “Satan’s got one juicy source of entertainment in there. I’d swallow a rag off a bathhouse floor before I took that soul! Unless you want to be a drooling mess.”

“Sam, I hate to say it, but he’s right,” Meg agreed.

“Yeah, yeah, right. I get it, thanks.” Sam was silent for a moment, and Crowley sighed, sending an almost pleading look in Sam’s direction. “He’s all yours.”

Meg smiled and Crowley paled as Sam turned away from them.

“Woah, what are you, crazy?” Dean could not fathom what Sam was thinking, they had to get his soul back. “He’s our only hope.”

“Dean, you heard him,” Sam interrupted, “he can’t get it. He’s useless.”

Dean looked at Crowley and sighed, staring down at the demon knife in his hand. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he handed it over to Meg, who took it with an enthusiastic smile. She approached Crowley in the Devil’s Trap, stopping to look back over her shoulder at Dean.

“You’re gonna let me back out right?”

Dean didn’t answer, he just watched her as she turned back toward the King of Hell.The plan had never been to let her back out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam nodding an affirmative. Wait and see, Dean thought. She had been very useful through the whole situation, despite that odd moment with Cas. And despite the steamy kiss Dean had watched her share with the angel, he knew there could be nothing real between them. He was going to give Cas so much shit for that later.

“This is for Lucifer, you pompous little–” Meg was interrupted by a sweep of Crowley’s leg bringing her to the floor.

The King of Hell stood and held up the demon blade he’d sntached from her to Sam and Dean before tossing it into the ceiling to break the Devil’s Trap. His smile was smug as he stepped out of the circle.

“That’s better.” He flicked his wrists in either direction, and Dean felt himself flying backward. He hit the wall hard, and his organs felt like they were being crushed into his back. It was hard to breathe. He watched as the demon knife ripped from the ceiling and fell firmly into Crowley’s hand. He tried to pull himself away from the wall as Crowley rounded on Meg, who was on her feet again, and brandished the blade at her. “You don’t know torture, you little insect.”

There was a sudden gust of wind, and a sound like the flutter of wings, and suddenly Cas was there. Dean wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. He wanted to run to Cas, in all his trench-coated, angelic glory and tell him how happy he was to see him. But all of that would have to wait for later, because with Crowley’s power forcing him to hang there on the wall, it was hard enough for Dean just to breathe.

“Leave them alone.” Castiel’s voice was commanding and absolute, leaving no room for argument. Even though Dean could only see his vessel, Cas was still somehow big enough to take up the entire space. He was breathtaking, towering over Crowley in righteous indignation and holding some sort of bag in one hand.

“Castiel.” Crowley looked over his shoulder at the angel, but made no move to free anyone. “Haven’t seen you all season. You the cavalry now?”

“Put the knife down,” Cas commanded, but Crowley was not swayed.

“You that bossy in Heaven? Hear you’re losing out to Raphael. Whole affair makes Vietnam look like a roller derby.” Crowley looked down at the bag Castiel was pulling open and shoving a hand into. “Hey, what’s in the gift bag?”

“You are.” Cas pulled a human skull out of the bag and held it up so Crowley could see it. If he’d been able to, Dean would have cheered as he watched the smug smile fall from Crowley’s face. He looked scared for the first time since they had arrived.

“Not possible.”

“You didn’t hide your bones as well as you should have.”

Crowley lowered the demon blade from Meg’s now smiling face and tucked it under his arm, turning to the angel and clapping slowly. “Cookie for you.”

Castiel put the skull back in the bag and dropped it to the floor. “Can you restore Sam’s soul or not?”

Crowley snapped his fingers and Dean sucked in a deep breath as his feet hit the floor. Dean met Castiel’s eyes as he looked over at him. There was concern there, hidden in the anger the angel had for the King of Hell.

“If I can help out in any other–”

“Answer him!” Dean interrupted, glaring at Crowley. Cas was staring the demon down as well, and there was a long pregnant silence between them.

“I can’t.”

Castiel didn’t ask any further questions, he stretched a hand out toward the bag of Crowley’s bones and it caught fire suddenly. Dean balked and closed his eyes, lifting an arm to shield himself from the brightness, but not before he saw Crowley start to burn. He opened his eyes again, still squinting against the flames that consumed the demon’s body as his pained screaming filled the room. He watched until there was nothing left but a pile of dust where Crowley had been, and then turned his attention to Castiel, whose hand had dropped to his side.

Dean stalked slowly toward the center of the room where Meg still stood, fear in her eyes as Sam bent down to take the demon knife from Crowley’s smouldering ashes. By the time the younger Winchester had his hand on it, she was gone.

“Well, she’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Dean sighed, looking around the room that was now emptied of demons. He was almost glad she had disappeared, because he wasn’t sure he could have done it after seeing her on that torture table. “I was gonna kill her, too.” He looked over his shoulder at Cas, remembering his jealousy now that his life was no longer in immediate danger. “Course, I’d have given you an hour with her first.”

Cas looked surprised at the comment, his head just tilted to one side. “Why would I want that?”

His confusion was so endearing, Dean smiled. He turned and walked over to the angel and wrapped one arm around his waist, pulling Cas flush against him. He gazed into deep blue eyes before softly brushing his lips against Castiel’s, his free hand rising to hold the back of Cas’s neck. He broke the kiss and smiled again, leaning forward until his lips were almost touching the angel’s earlobe.

“Give me an hour, and I will show you things you could never learn from the pizza man.”


End file.
